Facade
by Aisca
Summary: Two Smashers watch a sunset. Meta KnightX Jigglypuff.


_**o-O-o-O-o-O-o**_

_**Facade**_

_**o-O-o-O-o-O-o**_

Amongst Smashers, the word _quiet _means "three seconds."

Fighting is life to us, you know. And fighting is, more often than not, loud and crazy. Happiness is victory—hearing the crowd cheer for us, hearing our names raised on voices that we can never really follow. Sorrow is losing. The disappointment of being bested, tossed off the field by your opponent like a used dishrag. In battle, there's no pain—and we never hold back.

There's no quiet. There's no time to sit back and think, or even to reflect on the pointlessness of it all.

It's just the way things are.

The things have always been.

Of course, that's what makes _him _all the more special.

Hiding behind the pillar, the marble cold against my cheek, I feel like an idiot. Here I am. Skipping on dinner. Spying on someone who's little more than a stranger. Someone who probably thinks of me as the pink balloon who bounces around Smash Mansion on a continual sugar spree. Getting her butt kicked in just about every tournament, by everyone except maybe Pichu. Maybe.

Amongst Smashers, the word _Jigglypuff _means "nutcase."

It isn't like me to hide. I'm very outgoing normally. To quote Kirby: "Hiiiii-iiiii!"

But every time I watch him, I'm reminded of what I am beneath the smile and the big blue eyes.

Every time I look at him, I'm quiet.

He walks across the balcony, footsteps light and soundless on the tiled floor. His mask gleams in the lights of sunset, reflecting the honey-colored rays. His dark blue cape falls loosely behind him, and I remember how they stretch and change into wings when he fights. Though he's small and round and hardly any larger than I am, there's a strange grace to the way he moves.

He's like that. I haven't talked that much to him but behind his guardedness, he's full of surprises. It's like he knows everything, but he's just too tired to tell it to you.

"…Who's there?" Meta Knight turns around suddenly, his eyes glowing warily. I shrink into the shadows, biting my lip.

See what I mean?

He doesn't move, but he seems to see straight through the pillar.

"Jigglypuff?" He frowns, but I see his armored shoulders slump as he relaxes. "Is something the matter?"

Bashfully I come out of hiding and join him on the balcony. It feels weird to be so close to him.

"How do you do that?"

"How do I do what?"

"I don't know, just…catch stuff like that."

I sound like an idiot. Even to myself. And believe me, I'm shameless.

But Meta Knight only waves a hand, as though dismissing my words. "Did you need to ask me something?"

_You weren't supposed to see me, you know._

_You do know that?_

On second thought, I'd rather have him think that I have a real, plausible reason for being here. Because let's face it, hiding out just to spy on an unavailable guy is just tasteless. Not to mention stupid. And completely cliche.

Like I care.

"…I just…was wondering…um…" I fiddle with my hands and tap the railing of the balcony. "Why…why are you…"

_Why are you so quiet? Why are you so still? What makes you different from all the rest of us?_ My thoughts are freezing in my head. I feel like my whole body is turning into a chunk of ice.

"Why are you…never…down to dinner?"

There's a long silence. I stare at the white tiles under my feet and suddenly find myself wishing a hole would appear and drop me into oblivion - like into that Brinstar stage or something. You know. Lava. Stuff.

"I eat by myself." Meta Knight looks amused. I can't really see his face, but his eyes look a bit brighter. "I dislike removing my mask in public."

Oh. Right.

Amongst Smashers, _Meta Knight _means laid-back. Standoffish. Overly mysterious. But really, there' s more to him than that.

If everyone would just stop spazzing out and just stand still next to him for a second, they'd notice it too: a quiet around him, a complex serenity. LIke he doesn't need to pretend around others. Like he has his own tempo, some higher calling that means the world to him. I don't know why that aspect of him attracts me - no, wait, I do.

"Could I ask you something?"

He looks at me carefully, his gaze weighing. "…Go ahead."

"Are you happy here?"

I don't know what I'm expecting. Surprise, probably, or confusion. Is he happy being a Smasher? Who cares? Not Master Hand, not any of the others. As long as you win your matches, you should be.

And Meta Knight wins. All the time. He's what the others call 'top tier' material, and for a newcomer he's pretty respected. Or, more accurately, his skills are respected. His swordplay, his quick combo attacks, that grace and skill that seems imbedded in the marrow of his bones.

Ha. Maybe all these feelings, feelings that I've never felt before—maybe it's just jealously.

I never win.

I'm so wrapped up in all of this, I've practically forgotten my own question in the thirty seconds he takes to answer it. The sound of his voice snaps me back to reality.

"No," he says calmly, turning away, wrapping himself in the folds of his cape. "I'm not."

I nearly fall over the edge of the balcony in surprise.

How, though? Meta Knight is perfect. His life is perfect. Doesn't he realize it?

"Why not?" The question is out before I can stop it.

He looks at me, meets my eyes, and it's like we're playing truth or dare.

"Jigglypuff." His voice is quiet. "I envy you. Do you know why?"

The sun is an orb of soft fire, halfway below the horizon now, and the sky is streaked with violent colors. Scarlet, magenta, clear and sunny gold—like his eyes. The grounds of Smash Mansion are plunged into long, purple shadow; within moments, the light will fade.

I don't notice any of it.

"…Why?" I manage. "Why…me?"

"You're so happy." He stares out into the sunset without seeing it, and his eyes are clouded. "Nothing bothers you. No matter what anyone says to you, how many matches you lose…" He hesitates, as if he thinks he's said too much, then ploughs on recklessly. "…you're still upbeat. I've never even seen you frown."

I suppose it's true. I can't remember the last time I frowned—then again, I can't remember the last time I _wanted _to smile.

"But...that doesn't matter - "

"Do you know what my life is?" he cuts me off, and now he looks weary. His armor suddenly seems too heavy and a shadow has fallen over his masked face. "A disguise. Slowly fading...bits and pieces, connected by strings of false hope." He laughs. "When I was young, I believed in destiny. Now..."

I open my mouth knowing that there are no words to say.

"There's no meaning here." Meta Knight's gaze is on mine, intent. "No worth…simply fighting like animals in a ring. I wish there'd be a voice to break the silence."

He looks away. "I wish it'd be yours."

His ungloved hand brushes against mine, and I stare at it almost without feeling it. Then a tingle runs through my entire body as his fingers just barely rest against my palm. His skin is too soft to be real.

I can't believe he's saying this to me. I can't _believe _it. Like some little girl's dream come true, only it's slowly twisting into a nightmare—and I don't know why…some little voice at the back of my head is telling me to smile, to look up at him with big innocent eyes and crack a joke so we can laugh all this drama off and go worry about more important things. Like tournaments. Like the shouts of the crowd.

But I can't pretend. Not any more.

The bang of a door makes both of us jump. He pulls away and all of a sudden he's the knight in shining armor again, the noble one bent on higher things, the mysterious-quiet-top-tier-too-perfect-for-Jigglypuff Meta Knight. I'm still staring at him when light footsteps ring out and a third person joins us on the balcony.

Kirby stops in his tracks, surprise etched on his face. I'm trying to figure out what this must look like: his girlfriend and his mentor huddling guiltily against opposite walls, with the faded remains of the sunset in the background.

Almost out of reflex, I wave at him and don a cheery mask. Meta Knight, too, enfolds himself in his cape and nods in greeting.

Kirby relaxes instantly. Quickly he runs to my side, smiling as usual. His familiar hand folds around mine, warm but somehow not as comforting—and as I look, seeing the adoration in his sapphire eyes, I feel like crawling into a hole and staying there forever.

He kisses me.

"Hey, come on, Jigglypuff! You've got a match with Pikachu tonight, remember?"

The moment's over and I've plunged from the peak of my mountain. It's time to enter hiding once more.

"Of course!" I sing in my usual chirpy tone. Grinning, I turn to Meta Knight. "Hey, thanks for the tips. Maybe I'll actually win this one."

"It's not a problem," he replies smoothly. His eyes stray to Kirby and I want to crumble to pieces, right there. "Good luck with Pikachu."

"Yeah, little sucker's tough," I hear myself saying. "I'd know, I grew up with him. Come on, Kirby, we don't want to be late!"

I feel his eyes following me as I step off the balcony, Kirby's arm locked with mine. I feel his gaze as we race through the plain little room he shares with King Dedede and out the painted wooden door, Kirby holding it open for me.

And then hear the rustle of his cape as he turns, turns from me, turns away, to look at a sunset that's already fallen into blackness.


End file.
